


Crimson and Bare as I Stand

by Invictusimpala



Series: From the Cradle to the Grave [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Bottom Dean, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom Castiel, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Sub Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3521633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Invictusimpala/pseuds/Invictusimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s been clean for just over a month, and it’s been the longest, most difficult month of his life so far.<br/>It’s an endless loop he’s put himself in. He can’t have the liquor, and it’s so difficult not having a drink that he needs a drink to get over not being able to have one.<br/>He doesn’t remember grabbing the bottle, but then the old bottle of celebratory whiskey is in his hands, and the lip of the bottle is touching his lips.<br/>“Dean Winchester,” a deep voice booms behind him, but the shatter of glass as the bottle hits the floor is louder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson and Bare as I Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, enjoy :)

After work at the shop, Dean heads home. It’s been a rough day, with Bobby yelling at him the whole time, the cranky old bastard, and then with Benny teasing him with bottles of liquor he can’t have.

Of course that’s not how it happened. Benny snuck a sip of beer during break time, and Dean happened to glance at him while he did it. But it made his blood boil, and now he can’t stop thinking about the alcohol stored in the fridge. Even the cheap wine Cas has hidden in their room from decades ago, transferred from an old house is tempting.

Ana right now he’s thinking of what to use to make his own liquor he’s so desperate. His hands shake when he opens the door to their house, and his mouth becomes dry.

The water he drinks down greedily does nothing to quench his thirst, but he knows what will.

He grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white, and his mouth waters when he opens the door to the fridge.

There sits the bottle of celebratory whiskey he knows he can’t have, he’s not supposed to have a single drop of it. It was a gift someone gave Castiel when he moved in with Dean, when they bought their house.

Dean’s been clean for just over a month, and it’s been the longest, most difficult month of his life so far.

It’s an endless loop he’s put himself in. He can’t have the liquor, and it’s so difficult not having a drink that he needs a drink to get over not being able to have one.

He doesn’t remember grabbing the bottle, but then it’s in his hands, and the lip of the bottle is touching his lips.

“Dean Winchester,” a deep voice booms behind him, but the shatter of glass as the bottle hits the floor is louder. “Don’t move, I’ll clean the glass up.”

Castiel doesn’t sound upset or disappointed, but silent anger has always been his strongest suit, and Dean cowers where he is, mortified.

Castiel retrieves the broom and sweeps the glass into a pan which he tips over the lid of the trash. Dean watches him sop up the whiskey with a paper towel, and he’s so horribly embarrassed by the urge to suck the good smelling liquid from the towel.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” Castiel says, and cups Dean’s cheek with his clean palm that smells like expensive soap and the cologne he puts on before work. “I know what you need. I’m so sorry I had that in the fridge, it was wrong of me. Put on your collar and wait for me upstairs.”

Dean pulls his Dom in for a solid kiss that helps to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders.

Walking up the stairs knowing he’s not getting that drink makes his muscles hurt, and it’s so incredibly difficult walking out of the room, but somehow he forces himself to.

His collar is on the bed where he last left it, and he fastens it to his throat after stripping down, his greasy clothes folded and set to the side to be cleaned later.

“I want you to lay down on your stomach with your legs spread. Keep your hands above your head; you can hold onto the headboard if you need to, but do not move them,” Castiel says as he comes into the room.

Dean complies and situates himself on the bed like he was told, and his head clears a little.

He hears the click of a lube bottle, and he tries to look over his shoulder, but he’s shoved back down on the bed.

“Stay down, I know what you need.”

“Please,” Dean begs, and he knows Castiel realizes he’s not begging for a touch when his eyes darken and he becomes suddenly rougher.

“I am here for you, and I will not allow you to fail, Dean. I love you, and I will not allow you to go down a bad path again. I know what you need, trust me.”

Dean’s shoulders slump as he submits.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” Castiel’s hand comes down on his ass with a loud slapping sound, and Dean jolts forward. “Count them, boy.”

“One.”

“What?” Castiel asks angrily, and another slap makes him cry out, his fingers tearing at the pillow case he’s biting to keep his cries quiet.

“One, Daddy.”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Cas asks lowly, his breath ghosting over Dean’s now flushed skin, and he shivers.

“One, Daddy, thank you.”

“That’s better. Say it loud, or I slap harder.”

Dean writhes as Castiel’s hand comes down right on his hole.

“Two, Daddy, thank you,” he growls out, and Castiel slaps harder.

“Louder, Dean.”

“Three, Daddy, thank you,” he says, and this time it’s not muffled by the pillow he had his face shoved in previously. “Four, five, six, Daddy, thank you.”

He knows he’s in for it when Castiel parts his cheeks to slap his hole more exclusively.

The faster the hits come, the fuzzier his head gets, and the desperation to come dissipates into the feeling of skin on skin. A smile parts his lips instead of a choked moan, and that’s when Castiel stops, when Dean is too high to do more than count and whine.

“Such a good boy for me, Dean, can you talk?” Dean shakes his head minutely, too tired to do much else than rut into the sheets and cling to the pillow underneath him. “Stop moving your hips, and stay still.”

Castiel holds him in place until he’s able to do it on his own, and then that lubed hand is pushing between his sore cheeks to probe around his puffy hole that he knows is red and swollen.

“I’m going to finger you open until you’re gaping,” Castiel murmurs in his ear, and he shudders. “Then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move.”

He’s already having a problem with moving more than a finger at a time, and a high pitched, pathetic sounding keen escapes out of his throat.

Castiel fits one finger in his hole, and continues to spread more and more lube around until he can fit a second finger in.

“Oh, Daddy,” Dean breathes, and he can’t stop the roll of his hips into the mattress. “Gonna come, Daddy.”

“Are you going to come on my hand, Dean? Already?”

“Daddy, Daddy, please,” he breathes out in a low voice, and Cas kisses the back of his sweaty neck.

“You can wait.”

“No, Daddy, please let me come,” Dean begs, yet he holds back on the heat pooling in his belly that will pool over as soon as he lets it, but Cas hasn’t told him he can come.

So he doesn’t.

Castiel’s third finger pushes in next to the others, and all too soon so is his fourth finger along with his thumb.

“Dean, I want you to repeat after me, and then you can come, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“You are beautiful.”

“I-I am beautiful.” His voice wavers.

“You deserve this -- to come and to be touched. You deserve to be loved.”

“I d-deserve to come and to be touched. I deserve to be loved,” he chokes out through his teeth, and his face burns.

“You’re allowed to slip up sometimes.”

“I’m allowed to s-slip up.”

A sob bubbles up in his chest, and it’s then that he realizes tears are streaming down his face in big globs that gather under his face to wet Castiel’s pillow.

“Come.”

“Daddy,” Dean gasps, and his whole body locks up. His thighs squish together, and he humps the sheets, come making the slide a little easier, wet and sticky under him. A rush of endorphins makes his head spin, and when he closes his eyes tight white spots are like stars as he comes and comes.

His toes curl, and his hands fist in the bed spread, Castiel’s fingers still rubbing hard on his prostate, but his Dom pulls away when he goes slack.

Dean’s fallen into the most uncomfortable position, with his hands curled up under his face, and his legs sprawled out, lube dripping down his inner thighs. But he knows if he moves even a fraction of an inch he’s going to break out of his subspace, and he’d like to stay a little while longer.

Castiel doesn’t touch him, lets him come down on his own, but he does ask him a question every few minutes to make sure he’s okay.

“Hold up one finger if you need some more time, two if you’re okay.”

Dean breathes in deep, and he holds up his pointer finger without opening his eyes.

A hand pets down his back, and he settles down further into the fuzz that’s taken over his brain, but when he starts to drift off to sleep he moves into a more comfortable position, and he clears his throat, two fingers held up this time.

“Drink this for me, baby.” He sips at the water pushed against his dry lips, but then he’s whimpering into the cup, so his Dom moves onto better things. “Are you up for more?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He sounds _wrecked_ , and with that he buys another orgasm. Castiel has always liked it better when he’s totally submissive, absolutely, one hundred percent _his_ , and by reacting so strongly to his Doms heavy petting, Castiel has put more sex on the table since he’s so turned on. It’s obvious, Dean can feel his thick cock, hard and hot against his lower back as Cas thrusts between his slick cheeks. The gold is struck, and excitement is the only reason why he’s able to brace himself on his knees, that knowing he’s going to get to come again powers him back up, his cock thickening again, heavy between his legs.

“Are you going to come on your Daddy’s cock like a good boy, Dean?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Now the name rolls off his tongue, but at first it sounded odd in his mouth, calling Castiel his _Daddy_.

With his gruff, deep voice, he really shouldn’t like saying it as much as he does, but god damn it if it doesn’t make Cas come so hard he blacks out when he uses it right.

“So open for me, baby boy,” Castiel grunts, and he teases his cock head over Dean’s rim. “No talking unless you are saying my name, Dean, nothing else. You’re mine and I don’t want you to think about anything but me and my cock splitting you open.”

Castiel begins to screw himself in, with little rolls and jolts of his hips that make Dean’s muscles lock up tighter and tighter.

“No coming,” Castiel growls in his ear when his thighs begin to shake, one of his many tells, but the most obvious.

“Daddy,” he moans out over and over, and it becomes mindless. When his hands search for purchase elsewhere, Castiel grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head back as he starts to thrust so hard the slap of skin is thunderous in Dean’s ears.

“Did I say you could move?”

He shakes his head as best he can, but his hair is still being pulled by his Dom, adding just the edge of pain he needs, and the burn of Castiel stretching him makes him whine loudly over and over in his attempt to hold back his orgasm.

His thighs tremble, and his muscles ache. As he begins to beg and plead with just the tone of how he’s saying Castiel’s name, his Dom goes faster and faster with quick, precise snaps of his hips.

His Daddy’s cock nails his prostate and his cock rubs against the sheets under him with each jerk of their bodies meeting.

“I love fucking your little boy pussy, Dean. You look so beautiful with my cock in you. Are you going to come all over yourself just for me? Just for your _Daddy_?”

Curses and things that fall past Dean’s lips are effortless, easy, normal. When they are coming from his Dom they’re so _dirty_ , something that makes him blush and become instantly one thousand percent more turned on.

“Yes,” he croaks. “I’m gonna come on your cock, Daddy.”

“Good boy. Come.”

It’s better the second time. The second time the endorphins rush to his head the black ruins his view of Castiel fucking him, and he goes slack in his Dom’s arms.

He’s laid gently on the bed, and he ruts into the mattress to get himself off better, but his hips are pulled up so Cas can get a hand around his shaft.

“G-god, Daddy,” Dean moans deep in his chest, and Castiel hums approvingly.

“Such a good boy for me, Dean.” He’s set down carefully on the bed again. “Rest, honey, I’ll be back to clean you up in a minute.”

Dean makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and he lets his body sink into the memory foam of the mattress he loves so much.

Distantly, through the haze of his post-orgasm happiness, he knows why this happened, why he got spanked, but he also doesn’t want to think about it.

The pain in his scalp makes his eyes roll back in his head, and the slide of his cheeks together, slick with Cas’ come, makes him want more.

That’s what he focuses on, and it lulls him into a sort of half-conscious-but-also-sleeping state he can’t seem to pull himself out of even when Castiel comes back in the room to clean his skin of come and sweat.

Castiel helps him under the blankets, and he goes without complaint. Despite his rule about not cuddling, he craves Cas’ arms around him and is more than happy when arms wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer to the warm body next to him.

“You’re such a good little boy for me, Dean, so good. Take a nap while I make dinner, okay? If you need anything you can come sleep on the couch, too.”

“Wanna sleep on tha couch,” he slurs, and Castiel carries him down the stairs. Dean attempted doing it on his own, but his knees buckled and he crumbled, so he’s carried like a baby or a bride.

A blanket is laid over him, and a pillow is shoved under his head. He dozes off.

When he wakes it’s to the smell of steaming food, and he gets up when Cas’ hand comes into contact with his shoulder.

In the kitchen he drops to his knees and sleepily eats bits of steak Cas cuts for him. The steak is thick and juicy, just a little bit pink on the inside like Dean likes it. The pieces are dipped in steak sauce before pressed to his lips, and he sucks the pieces dry before swallowing.

He’s fed leaves of Caesar salad he’ll only eat because he’s been told to, but he has to admit the sauce is pretty good. Then a slice of bread is pushed into his palm, and he tears bits off of it before biting into the buttery-fluffiness that makes his mouth water while Castiel feeds himself.

An hour later and he’s stuffed. His belly is well rounded, and he burps loudly. Castiel rolls his eyes, but he cups Dean’s cheek and tells him he’s a good boy.

“Would you like to watch some television? There are reruns of _Doctor Sexy_ on, and I’d let you sit up on the couch with me if you behave.”

“Yes, please, Daddy.”

Dean follows Castiel back into the living room where they settle on the couch, with Dean in his lap.

“Dean, I have a serious question for you, but I don’t want you to get mad, I just want what’s best for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you want to go into rehab? Or get a sponsor?”

That’s not something he was expecting, and he freezes.

“I . . . I don’t want to go into rehab,” he whispers.

“I’m not forcing you into anything, don’t be scared.”

Castiel holds Dean’s shaking body tighter, and Dean curls into him.

“I don’t think a sponsor would be a bad idea,” he admits eventually.

“Okay, it was just a thought. We can talk it out more later and look into it, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Good. I just want you to get better, Dean. You’ve been doing so well on your own, imagine how it would be with some help. I’m sorry I can’t help you better, I don’t know how, but I’d like to help you in any way I can, so tell me if I need to do anything.”

“Don’t have any alcohol in the house, let’s try that one.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

“S’my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t, nothing is your fault. Remember, it’s okay to slip up. We’ll get you help, Dean, I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone.”

“I know I’m not, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com)  
>  I am taking prompts there, if you're interested :)  
> (More info on that [here](http://www.invictus-impala.tumblr.com/prompt-info))


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